


Old Times

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Martin
Genre: 5000-10000 Words, Character of Color, Femslash, Gen, Het, POV First Person, Post-Series, Pre-Het, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-17
Updated: 2009-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years later, Claudia comes home one snowy Tuesday to find an invitation in the mail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizwontcry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/gifts).



It seems like you never get anything interesting in the mail anymore.  Every day when I check the mailbox in the lobby of my apartment building, it's nothing but bills and junk mail.  Sometimes my mother sends me things, but it's a lot easier for me to drive over to Stoneybrook and pick it up in person.  It's email's fault; who writes you postcards when they can just send you an IM?  (And I'm glad for it, because you can use the spellchecker on the computer to fix misspelled words.  My spelling is _terrible_ when I'm writing by hand.)

  
My name's Claudia Kishi, and even though I'm twenty-three years old, I still catch myself imagining a big introduction sometimes, in case anyone happens to be listening to my thoughts.  That sounds really paranoid, but I guess it was all the Nancy Drew books I read as a kid.  At the beginning, they always reminded you who Nancy and George and Bess were, in case you'd never read the books before.  Or in case you had the memory of a goldfish.  I was never really sure which.

If I were giving one of those, I'd mention that I live in Stamford, Connecticut, but that I'm originally from Stoneybrook, which is about a half-hour away.  My mom and dad still live there, but the elementary schools didn't have any openings for art teachers, and Stamford did, so I moved here.  Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with leaving home -- I went to UMaine for school, and that's seven hours away -- but I like the idea of living around where I grew up.  I'd still love to teach at Stoneybrook Elementary someday.  I might even have the children of people I grew up with in my class!  But Stamford's close enough for now, and the kids I teach are great.

I'd also probably say that I love kids, art, junk food, and any combination of the three; that I have a Cairn Terrier named Toto, just like the dog in _The Wizard of Oz_; and that Tuesday was the day that the thing about never getting interesting mail stopped being true.

It was snowy out, and teaching my kids had been like teaching a bunch of squirrels how to draw pictures, since it was the first week back from winter vacation.  Two of my second-graders even got into a paint-throwing fight!  By the time I stomped the snow off my boots inside the front doors of my building, I was exhausted and cold, and all I wanted to do was curl up on my couch with some hot chocolate and an Agatha Christie story.  (That's another thing I'd have to mention if I was making a big introduction about myself.  I love mysteries, especially when I can guess the ending before the detective figures it out.)  Nestled beneath coupons for Bed, Bath, and Beyond and a statement for my student loans was a linen envelope without a return address on it.

I frowned at it as I waited for the elevator.  It looked like my mystery had come early today; trying to puzzle out what the envelope was on the ride up to apartment 3-C would be more fun than trying to open it while juggling my neon-pink wool mittens and the things I'd brought home from school.  The neat, upright cursive on the front looked really familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.  Was someone getting married?  Roxanne Granger, one of my best friends from college, was pretty serious about her boyfriend, but I couldn't remember ever seeing her write in cursive...

Trying to guess about the letter's origins had me so distracted that I almost forgot to get out of the elevator at my floor!  I hurried into my apartment, kicked off my snow boots, tossed my coat onto a kitchen chair, and sat down on my couch to tear open the envelope.  Toto barked hello at me when I came through the door and scrambled onto my lap the minute I sat down.

You are cordially invited  
to the ten-year reunion  
of the Baby-sitters Club

Saturday, July 4th  
1:00 PM - ???  
1210 McLelland Road

Guests welcome.   
If possible, bring a dish to pass.

Please R.S.V.P. to  
Kristin A. Thomas  
KL5 - 9567  
kristy.thomas@finder-spyder.com

  
I laughed out loud -- of course it was Kristy's handwriting!  She'd printed out the invitation itself instead of writing it by hand, on linen paper like the envelope, and she'd used her full name.  This was clearly a Big Deal.  Kristy always liked things to look as professional as possible when they were important to her.

See, Kristy was one of my best friends when I was younger.  We -- Kristy and I, along with our friends Mary Anne Spier and Stacey McGill -- started this thing called the Baby-sitters Club back in middle school.  (It was Kristy's idea, but it wouldn't have worked without all of us.)  It was exactly what it sounded like, a club of baby-sitters; we met in my bedroom three times a week, and parents would call us at those times if they needed a baby-sitter.  We were a good business, too; after a while, several other girls joined -- Dawn Schafer, Mallory Pike, Jessi Ramsey, Abby Stevenson, Shannon Kilbourne -- and even Mary Anne's boyfriend at the time.  Parents loved us, probably because we put on parties and things for the kids when we weren't baby-sitting them.

But when middle school ended, everyone was too busy for the club anymore.  We kind of drifted apart some, too; aside from growing up together and baby-sitting, Kristy and I didn't really have all that much in common, and the same with most of the other girls.  I still hear from Mom (who works at the library in Stoneybrook and sees just about everyone in town) about how people are doing, but the only person I really kept up with after graduation was Stacey. 

So it was Stacey I had to call, right after I opened up my invitation.  I hoped she was home from work by then; financial consultants work longer hours than elementary school teachers, it turns out, and Chicago's an hour behind Connecticut.  I decided to call her cell phone just in case she was still at her office.

"Hello?" 

I grinned.  Stacey and I are the kind of friends where we can go without seeing or talking to each other for months and then talk like it's only been a day or two.  Having best friends is sort of juvenile, but she's mine.  "Hey, Stace.  You still at work?"

"Hey, Claud," she said back.  I could hear the smile in her voice.  "No, I had to take off early for a dentist appointment."

"Gross."  But considering that Stacey used to give herself a shot of insulin _every day_ for her diabetes -- she has one of those pumps now, the kind that delivers insulin more slowly -- the dentist was probably nothing to her.  "Guess what I got in the mail today?"

"What?"

"An invitation."  I read it aloud to her, scratching Toto between the ears as I did.

She giggled when I finished.  "Oh, that's so Kristy.  Just -- all of it, it's _so_ Kristy."

"Did you get one, too?"

"Not yet.  It's probably coming in the next day or two."  Stacey paused.  "Are you going to go?"

"Yeah."  I shrugged, and then I remembered that she couldn't see me.  "I mean, it's only a half an hour away.  And it'd be cool to see how everyone's doing.  Mom tells me, and sometimes I see people, but this would be like old times."  It was my turn to pause.  "Are you going to?"

"I'm not sure.  I could probably make it out there.  She certainly gave us plenty of time to make room in our schedules for it." 

"And if you came for the weekend, we could go in to New York on Sunday," I offered.  "I don't think I'm going to be able to afford to come out to Chicago again for a while."

Visiting Stacey in Chicago last summer had been my college graduation present from my parents.  I hadn't been there since I was thirteen, but Stacey got her B.A. at the University of Chicago (all the best accounting schools are in the Midwest, she says, and she wanted to go to one in an actual city), so she knew all the best places for us to go see.  (And restaurants to eat at, and stores to shop at.  Stacey's really into fashion, too -- a bunch of the clients she works with at her firm are in the industry!)  And since I got to pay another visit to the Art Institute, it had been a perfect visit for me.

"That'd be fun," Stacey agreed, "and I don't think I'll be too busy with work.  I can do most of it on my laptop anyway.  Can I crash at your house?  I love my mom, but..." 

"Totally.  Mi sofa es su sofa," I joked.  "It'll be like a sleepover."

"Like old times." 

"A big, reminiscing weekend.  Besides," I added conspiratorially, "we're allowed to bring dates if we want, and I want to see who will."  Neither Stacey nor I have boyfriends right now -- I broke up with my last serious one last spring -- so we wouldn't be dragging anyone along with us, but I knew at least a couple of the other girls _did_ have significant others to speak of. 

Stacey laughed, and our conversation wandered from Kristy's BSC reunion bash.  When we said goodbye an hour later, I didn't feel tired at all anymore; suddenly, I wanted it to be summer already, and not just because I knew my classes were going to be just as chaotic tomorrow as they were today.  Even if the BSC and I weren't thick as thieves (as my mom would say) anymore, we'd always have a special bond.  We'd eaten pizza at midnight while watching _Sixteen Candles_, had come up with talent shows and concerts and parties for all the neighbourhood kids, had gone on vacations and even solved some mysteries.  (Nancy Drew would've been proud of us.)  I wanted us to be friends all together again, even if it was only for the afternoon.

 

* * *

  
"Ready?" I asked Stacey. 

We were sitting in my old silver Honda Civic, parked on McLelland Road in front of the Brewer-Thomas house (but it's really more like a mansion, and so are all the other houses on this street).  Kristy doesn't live there anymore, of course, but if her apartment is anything like mine, trying to fit more than five people in there for a get-together probably wouldn't be very fun.  And Elizabeth and Watson, Kristy's mom and step-dad, have a _huge_ backyard, which is just the thing for a party around the Fourth of July. 

Stacey flipped down the mirror on the passenger's side of the car and checked her makeup once more, just in case.  "Okay, ready," she replied, and gave me a smile.  I grabbed the container of potato salad we'd picked up at the deli on the way, and we got out of the car.

Stacey didn't have anything to worry about, as far as looks went.  I thought we both looked great.  She was wearing a black, off the shoulder shirt with black jeans; her vinyl ballet flats, wide belt, and fingernails were all fire-engine red.  Around her neck was a gold chain with a single red gemstone (I wasn't sure if it was real or not).  The red stood out really well against the black, and so did her blonde hair.  Stacey doesn't perm it any more, so it falls just past her shoulders in soft waves. 

Meanwhile, I had on one of those really cool collared shirt dresses that look like they're from the 1940s.  It was spring green, with puffed sleeves and pockets at the waist, and I had painstakingly replaced all its original ivory-coloured buttons with a rainbow of different buttons that were about the same size.  With it, I wore strappy white sandals and a rainbow belt; I had considered putting on a pair of white netted gloves, too, but since I had the feeling we were going to be eating hamburgers and stuff like that, I decided to leave them at home.  I _did_ put on a long white ribbon like a headband, though, and tied it in a big bow on the side of my head, and I wore some of my handmade jewelry: polymer clay earrings in the shape of a teapot and teacup.  If that didn't say "garden party" (or "yard party," in this case), I didn't know what would.

It was weird walking up Watson's driveway again after such a long time.  Kristy had set up a little tent on the lawn, like the kind you get for graduation parties, with some tables and chairs underneath.  She and Mary Anne were there, but no one else had shown up yet. 

As we approached, I could hear Kristy saying, "Yeah, Karen's planning on applying to six or seven different schools.  She can't decide where she wants to go, but I think she liked the idea of Smith..."

"Smith was nice," Mary Anne said -- and she would know, because she went there.  "It might be kind of quiet for Karen, though."

"Hey, guys!" I said brightly, holding out the potato salad.  They both gave little shrieks of recognition when they saw us and jumped up.  Kristy took the potato salad and set it on a table that already featured chips, salsa and dip, pretzels, and hamburger buns while Mary Anne hugged both of us in turn.

"You look great!" she said.  I almost expected there to be tears in her eyes -- Mary Anne goes to pieces over cat food commercials sometimes, it wouldn't be surprising -- but she just looked overjoyed to see us both. 

"So do you," Stacey replied, and I nodded.  Mary Anne's dark hair was bobbed to her chin, kind of like Catherine Zeta-Jones in _Chicago_, and while she was dressed more casually than Stacey and I -- just a boatneck shirt and capri pants -- it looked nice on her. 

Kristy's idea of party wear in the summertime was still jeans, a ponytail, and a t-shirt that didn't have a baseball team logo on the front.  And even though it made the fashionista in me cringe a little, I kind of hoped it always would be.  Like Stacey had said back in January, everything about Kristy was still so _Kristy_.  We hugged, too, and she offered us a seat.  Stace and I each pulled up a chair, and the four of us sat down and looked at each other.

No one said anything for several moments, and I suddenly wished I'd done a better job of keeping up with my old friends.  I knew the bare bones of what they'd been up to, but we hadn't really talked to each other since high school ended.

"The founding members of the BSC, and we don't have anything to say to each other," Kristy finally said, looking like she couldn't decide whether to smile or frown. 

"Who else is coming?" I asked.  We'd shown up at one o'clock on the nose, because the last person you want to show up late for is Kristy Thomas, even if it's only a party.  But it looked like everyone else was planning on being fashionably late.

"Almost everybody," Kristy replied.  "The only people who can't come are Shannon and Dawn.  The Kilbournes have a family reunion this weekend--"

"And Dawn's doing Peace Corps," Mary Anne cut in excitedly.  She shot an apologetic glance Kristy's direction when she realized that she'd interrupted her, but she continued anyway.  "She just left a few weeks ago for Uganda.  She's going to be doing something with the environment there, and with AIDS.  I don't think she knows what exactly yet."

"That's so cool!" I said.  "So everyone else should be coming pretty soon -- hey, is that Mal?"

She didn't have glasses, but she _did_ have a crop of shoulder-length red hair that curled wildly around her face -- it couldn't have been anyone _but_ Mallory.  And she was walking hand in hand with a curvy girl with shaggy blonde hair, carrying a tupperware container of what I hoped were cookies.  The food table was definitely lacking in sweet things so far.

All four of us ran out to meet them, calling Mal's name, and suddenly, things started to feel more comfortable to me.  Mallory looked like she was ready to crawl under a rock and die, though -- I think she was really nervous.  She'd come out a year or two ago (I'd heard from Mom, who'd heard from Mrs. Pike), but I suppose there's a difference between telling everybody and introducing your partner to your friends from middle school. 

"Hi," she said, and we all six stopped where we stood in a little group in the July sunshine.  She took a breath and went on, "This is my girlfriend.  Alicia."

"I'm Kristy."  She smiled at both of them and stuck her hand out to shake.  The rest of us followed suit. 

"Claudia."

"Mary Anne."

"Stacey."

"Nice to meet you."  Alicia nodded her head towards the tupperware container.  "I hope you all like gingersnaps.  Mal and I baked them last night."  The way she said "hope" and "baked" reminded me a little of that movie, _Fargo_; I wondered where Alicia was from originally.

"It's so good to see you, Mallory," Mary Anne added, and suddenly, we'd all begun hugging again.

And _then_ Kristy spotted Abby coming up the driveway with a grocery bag (more food, probably) and a guy with a shock of bright red hair.  Everyone seemed to show up at once then, and we spent the next five or ten minutes just standing in the middle of the lawn, with bags and boxes of food resting around our feet, hugging and introducing and exclaiming over each other.

Finally, after Jessi had introduced us all to Mark, her boyfriend, and Abby had introduced Randy, her fiancé as of two weeks ago, Kristy said, "All right, I'm starving.  Let's go eat this food instead of leaving it in the grass."

As we trouped back over to the tent and started munching on chips and the veggies and dip that Jessi had brought along with, we were all still gabbing about what everyone had been doing since high school.  The conversation continued while Kristy fired up the grill and put on some burgers; she was just outside the tent, so she could listen and interrupt as she felt like it. 

I think of interrupting as kind of a Kristy thing, if I'm thinking about my friends from school, but that afternoon, it was an _everyone_ thing.  All the stories we wanted to tell flowed over each other, weaving back and forth, until it was one big story that just happened to be happening in a lot of different places, to a lot of different people, over the past decade.  It was like braiding hair, or one of those awful brown leather belts that you get for free when you buy jeans aimed at middle-aged moms. 

Jessi and Mal were both full of tales of college, since they'd only graduated that spring -- Jessi with a degree in American Sign Language interpreting, and Mal with one in creative writing.  Abby was looking forward to _more_ school, because it turns out you need more than four years to get a good job in physical therapy, and she really wanted to work with injured athletes.  I was glad that I'd decided to be an art teacher, because it meant I wouldn't have to go to school again until the school district made me.

"But you're in school when you're teaching!" Abby pointed out, and we all laughed.

"But I'm getting paid.  I would've liked school better the first time around if I got paid then, too." 

Speaking of jobs, the non-profit organization Kristy was working for was great, but she couldn't wait to feel like she had enough experience to start her own.  Mark knew a woman Kristy might want to talk to about that, someone who ran a great charity on-campus at his and Jessi's school, and promised to give Jessi the contact information to pass on.  Stacey told everyone how she'd seen Oprah on the street in Chicago once, and I told about my trip out to visit her there.  Mary Anne had studied abroad for a summer in London while she got her degree and had seen Elton John.  All three of Mallory's triplet brothers were studying abroad this summer, and she wasn't sorry they weren't home to bother her while she visited (and more importantly, I suspected, couldn't bother Alicia).

"It's still weird, though.  Claire's learning how to drive."  She made a face.  "I still keep expecting her to call people 'silly-billy-goo-goos' when they cut her off."

"Karen's applying to colleges," Kristy said.  "And Charlie's wife is going to have a _baby_ this fall."

"It seems like yesterday we were making sure they went to bed on time," Stacey added.  "Well, not Charlie, of course, but I bet we'd feel just as old talking about any of the other kids we babysat.  They're all growing up."

"Where is Karen, anyway?" I asked.  I was a victim of still imagining all our charges as little kids, too -- I half expected her to come out and cajole us into a game of Let's All Come In.

"She and Andrew are at their mom's house this weekend, and I asked everyone else to let us have some space for the afternoon."  Kristy flipped a burger.  "Mom and Watson will probably want to say hello before you guys all leave, though, and David Michael, too.  Emily Michelle's been kind of shy around other people lately, but..."  She shrugged.

At some point in the middle of all our chatting, Logan Bruno showed up, apologizing in a Kentucky-tinged drawl for being late and holding up a box of cookies from the supermarket as an apology.  (It turned out Stacey and I weren't the only ones who still feared the wrath of Kristy.)  We had ended up moving the folding chairs into a circle halfway out of the tent, the two tables forgotten, and we scooted our chairs around to make room for one more.

He ended up pulling up a chair next to me, and as Kristy began doling out the burgers -- mostly meat, and a couple of Boca burgers for Randy -- our conversation splintered off into several smaller ones.  While Alicia regaled Stacey, Jessi, and Mark with stories of growing up in a tiny town in the middle of Minnesota (I _knew_ it) and Mary Anne detailed Dawn's Peace Corps plans for everyone else, I ended up talking with Logan.

It was all awkward small-talk at first -- "It's great to see you again, Claudia," and "You, too, Logan," -- but eventually, we found the rhythm of our conversation.

"I took a year off from school," he said, a little sheepishly, and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair.  "I really needed a break, so I decided to work for a year instead. And now I guess I'm where you were last year, looking for jobs."

"I almost did that, too!" I exclaimed.  "But Janine pointed out that if I stopped, I'd probably never want to start again, and she was right.  I don't want to write any more papers if I can help it.  What'd you major in?"

"Education.  I applied for a job in Stamford, actually, teaching high school social studies."  He smiled.  "I really hope I get it.  They have an opening for assistant coach for football, too."

"Oh, that'd be great.  And Stamford's really nice.  It's not too far from Stoneybrook, and your parents are still here, aren't they?" 

Logan nodded.  "Yeah, everyone is.  I thought about going back to Kentucky, but I'd rather live near my parents and Hunter and Kerry than my grandma."

"I was thinking about staying in Orono."  I dragged a carrot stick through some ranch dressing on my paper plate without really thinking about it; I think I think better when my hands are busy doing something.  "But -- well, I really like Stoneybrook, you know?  I like living in the area."

"Same here."  And after a moment, he said, sounding a little tentative, "You know, we should get together sometime, if there's a chance we're going to end up in the same city.  For lunch or something."

It was my turn to smile at him.  "I'd like that.  I can show you where all the cool teachers hang out when they aren't herding kids around."

I think the best way to describe his face would be _beaming_.  I couldn't help beaming back at him, too.  He found a clean napkin, and we scrawled out our phone numbers to exchange before going back to talking.  I told him about how Janine was getting her PhD, and he told me about Hunter and Kerry's misadventures in high school.  And then he mentioned that Kerry was obsessed with some teenage romance books, and we started comparing tastes in movies and music.  And let me tell you, I think he has some good taste.

Logan had to leave forty-five minutes later to go to a family thing.  "Last to show up _and_ first to go," Kristy harrumphed, but she gave him just as warm a hug as everyone else.

After he'd left, I sidled over to where Mary Anne and Abby were talking about a TV show they'd both been watching and sat down.  When there was a natural break in the conversation, I said, "Mary Anne, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."  Mary Anne turned her full attention to me.

"Is this the kind of 'can I ask you something' where I'm supposed to find an excuse to get out of here?" Abby asked.  Her mass of dark hair was frizzy from the heat, haloing around her face.

"You can stay if you want," I said.  "It's not really a big deal.  Mary Anne, is it okay if I go on a date with Logan?"

She looked confused.  And then amused.  "What?  Claudia, Logan and I haven't been boyfriend and girlfriend since the eighth grade."

"I know," I said, feeling silly, "it's been, like, ten years and all, but it's a matter of friend loyalty.  I can't just date your ex-boyfriend without asking first."

I tried to give her a look of utter seriousness, but the three of us just burst out laughing instead.  Mary Anne recovered enough to nod and say, "I give you permission to date my eighth-grade boyfriend."

"Can I have permission to date him next?"  Abby asked.  She was much better at deadpanning the question than I was.

I mock-shoved her.  "I might want to keep dating him, you know!"

"Everyone has my permission to date Logan Bruno," Mary Anne declared.  Everyone else's conversations had hit lulls just as she was speaking, and they glanced over in our direction.

"Why would we want to date Logan?" Kristy asked.  Stacey and Mallory both looked like they'd rather kiss frogs.  Jessi, who was sitting close enough that she had probably heard most of our conversation, was trying not to snicker.

"No reason," I said hurriedly.  Mary Anne would probably tell Kristy, and I'd definitely be telling Stacey that night, but I didn't really want to start explaining everything to everyone right there.  Considering how long we'd been talking, they could probably put the pieces together anyway. 

We ended up sitting around and talking for so long that before we knew it, it was dinnertime.  The sun had no intentions of going down for several hours yet, but I think we could all feel that it was time to start winding down our fun.  We'd decimated the cookies and burgers, and we'd eaten up most of the rest of the spread.  Elizabeth and Watson had come out to visit, with a David Michael who pretended he didn't really care about saying hello and an Emily Michelle who wasn't entirely sure she wanted to say hello to so many people.  And then we were left with empty plates and

"Hey," Abby said, with a glance at her watch.  "It's five-thirty."

"I now declare this meeting of the Baby-sitters Club called to order," Kristy said, and even though I could hear the joke in her voice, I wondered if it was half out of habit.  "I'm getting hungry again.  Anyone want to go out for pizza?"

"We should probably get going, actually," Jessi said, nodding to Mark, and Abby and Randy made noises of agreement.  She looked honestly apologetic.  "This was really fun, though.  We should do it again in ten years."

"Ten years?  We'll probably have children at that point," I said.  "That would be so cute."

"I think we should do this again sooner," Mary Anne said quietly, and this time, I thought I could see her eyes beginning to water up.  "After how nice this afternoon was, I don't want to lose touch with all of you again."

"Maybe we could do it again next year," Stacey offered.  "I wouldn't mind flying back out."

"All those in favour?"  I think Kristy really missed being in charge of us.  "All opposed?"

"Kristy, that was a unanimous vote!" Abby pointed out.

"Fine, fine," she said.  "I hereby declare an annual Baby-sitters Club reunion, so long as the members want it."

We cheered, and Mal, who had been having a conversation through facial expressions with Alicia during the proceedings, added, "That's great, but we're up for pizza, too, if you guys want to go out to Pizza Express."

"I'm in if my ride is," Stacey said, and I nodded in agreement.

"Me, too," said Mary Anne, and it was settled.

After cleaning up what leftover food we had to speak of and throwing away the trash, the party devolved into a clump of hugs and handshakes once more as we said goodbye to Jessi, Abby, Mark, and Randy.  Mary Anne really did burst into tears, but only momentarily.  And we split up to head out to Pizza Express in our respective cars.

As Stacey and I got into mine, I thought about how the day had gone.  I hadn't really known what to expect going into this -- it had been so long since we'd all really hung out together.  But maybe the other BSC members were like Stacey, where we could be apart for years and come back to find each other...well, not the same, by any means, but still similar enough to be friends.  It had been completely awkward at first, but it had turned out really great on the whole. I'd never realized how much I'd missed the other girls until they were there again and we got to talking.

Well, the other girls and Logan.  He had grown up to be a nice, friendly guy who knew how to listen and had interesting things to say.  And he was pretty cute, too (a lot cuter than in middle school, I thought).  Who knew?  Maybe it could be LUV, like Stacey used to say.  But even if it was just a lunch date, I had the feeling it'd be fun.

Next to me, Stace clicked her seatbelt and looked over at me expectantly.  I must have zoned out in the middle of all my thoughts.  I looked back over at her, and she smiled.  "Like old times?" she asked.

I thought about it and nodded.  "Yeah.  Like old times."

**Author's Note:**

> ...In case you're wondering, their trip to Pizza Express ended with a pizza toast. Every good BSC pizza session ought to, _honestly_. This was my first time trying Yuletide, and this prompt ended up igniting my creative fires in a way I didn't know to expect! Writing this was great fun, and I hope it was an enjoyable read, too. If you celebrate a holiday at this time, please allow me to offer my best wishes that it's a good one. If you don't? Happy midwinter, kids, and may the new year bring many weddings and few funerals. ♥


End file.
